


Perfectly Imperfect

by ThemSoundwaves



Series: Perfectly So [3]
Category: Lost in Space (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect To A Small Degree, Crow Learning To Trust Humans Again, Defiance, Family Issues, Flashbacks, Focuses On Scarecrow And Samantha, Hurt/Comfort, Learning to Human, Mental Connections, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Runaway, Sassy Scarecrow, Set In The Same Universe As Perfectly Natural, Telepathy, Trauma, learning to talk, recovery fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThemSoundwaves/pseuds/ThemSoundwaves
Summary: After what felt like a lifetime, Samantha had finally arrived on Proxima Centauri B, ready to start her new life. However, settling in isn't easy, and it doesn't take long for the girl to realize just how torn her family became after her father's disappearance. All it took was a petty fight with her mother one night to spark a jolt of defiance. In hopes that her actions would repair the damage... Samantha ran away.If she'd known beforehand what, or rather,whoshe'd be running away to...She would have stayed home.[A slow-building relationship between Samantha-a damaged young girl who suffers from terrifying flashbacks, and a hole in her heart from a missing father. And Scarecrow-A traumatized and confused alien robot who can't decide whether or not to hate humankind for what they've done to him, or accept them for saving his life.][A story of recovery, fear, adventure, and exploring the unknowns of human-robotic connections][This story begins at the start of Chapter Ten, in Its_In_The_Waters' fic 'Perfectly Natural.'][It can also be read as a standalone story]
Relationships: Samantha & Scarecrow (Lost in Space)
Series: Perfectly So [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680931
Comments: 23
Kudos: 16





	1. [Prologue]

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of things before we begin :]
> 
> [1]This story is greatly inspired by Its_In_The_Water's Perfectly Natural. Its set in the same universe, and will coincide with some of the events that happen within that story. She is also looking over the chapters and helping me Beta! 
> 
> This story begins roughly at the start of Perfectly Natural's Chapter Ten. It may end when her story does, or it may go further. it all depends on how well this tale fleshes itself out!
> 
> [2] As far as I know, Samantha was not given a last name in the show. So I've decided to throw in a surrogate last name just for story purposes. If you know what her family's last name is, PLEASE let me know! For now, her last name will be Brennon.
> 
> [3] Sams Father didn't seem to be named, either. So, his surrogate name for Story purposes will be James, until we can find out who exactly he was. [If we ever do]
> 
> [4] and last but not least: Scarecrow. I know all of you are thinking~ wait, Waves, Didn't he die? Well, No, He did not. If you go back and watch the scene where he defends the others: the last we see of our dear Scarecrow is when Mr. Leader Robot forces him to the ground and steps on his face~ Mr Leader then proceeded to leave Scarecrow there, _Alive_ It ends with scarecrow tackling the leader to the ground which, my friends, is _not_ a confirmed death.
> 
> For reasons to later be explained, and for this story's purpose, Scarecrow finds himself on Centari.
> 
> Please enjoy.

* * *

_'Mmh, mmmh, mmh, mmmmh..._

_Mmh, mmmh, mmh, mmmmh..._

_Runaway till I hear no sound,_

_Runaway 'cause I have no choice..._

_Runaway from the haunt-ing noise,_

_Runaway from the blood-hound boys..._

_Mmh, mmh, mmh..._

_Are we the hunters?_

_Are we the hunted?_

_Are we the monsters?_

_Show me the fear under your skin..._

_Life is a game, are you gonna play now?_

_Should I run away, are you gonna stay now?_

_Who can you trust?_

_Are you one of us?'_

**_ -Monsters, Tommee Profitt.  _ **

* * *

The rain beat down on the empty home; the wind rolled in the distance, low and grouchy. Samantha sat on the living room couch, staring out through the window, marveling at how different this planet was to Earth. 

Samantha Brennon used to be afraid of storms when she was much younger. She would presumably still be fearful of them if it hadn't been for her father, who sat on the front porch with her at night to watch the lightning crackle across the sky. He showed her that there was nothing to be afraid of.

Now, instead of fear, Samantha felt nostalgic. She would find the nearest window and watch the sky light up, remembering back too much simpler times when all she had to worry about was passing her tests.

As she watched the foreboding clouds crawl across the darkened sky, she did not remember her tests, no, she wasn't thinking about whether or not her friends would be at school that day, or if her mother would be home late from work. 

Now, She remembered her father, And all the moments they would watch rainstorms just like this one.

The young girl had come to terms with her father's disappearance, some days the pain would be worse than others, and some days she would go without remembering him. Despite this, she grew used to his absence and accepted his probable death.

Holly Brennon, however, was a completely different story. 

Sam could not recollect precisely when her mother began changing, only that it was shortly after they had finally made it to Proxima Centauri B. Holly gradually became disinterested in the things she'd usually go on and on about. She began to develop a very short temper and continuously wanted to be alone.

Samantha adapted to her mother's new behavior, and she adapted well. Having been alone on a space station for a long time, surrounded by an aggressive robot, it mentally aged her. At times she forgot that she was only eleven years old. Her mother's Newfound attitude had only hastened her quick mental aging.

Samantha's mother was currently taking an extended break from her work as a botanist. She spent most of her time in her room or sitting on her father's former recliner watching old movies. They rarely talked; whenever Samantha tried to start a conversation, her mother seemed to grow distant, her eyes blank, as if Samantha's voice had forced her into another world entirely.

Sam would come home from school to her mother passed out on the couch, or locked away in her room. The young girl had to make her own meals and frequently would do chores around the house, hoping it would lighten her mother's broken heart.

It never did.

Holly missed her husband. 

And Samantha missed her father.

A particularly nasty rip of wind vibrated the walls, Samantha tensed up, and for a brief second, she could feel the rumble of the buildings' supports deep in her heart.

_Alone and afraid, Samantha sat in the ventilation duct, listening to the hollow ship as it creaked and shifted in space. Unmanned: anything could happen. Would she be pulled into the atmosphere of a planet and die as it broke apart? Would it blow from being unmaintained? Was she doomed to die here, by starvation or an angry alien? Would she ever see her mother again?~_

Sam blinked.

The memories were gone as quickly as they started; she relaxed.

She didn't know how long she sat there in a depressed daze, but it was long enough for the rain to calm and diminish into a light drizzle.

It was then when Holly received a call on her comm. Curiously, Sam turned to watch her mother, who stood in the kitchen with her back facing Samantha. She answered the ring with a shaky hello; after that, there was a long pause, long enough to know that something was wrong.

Then, with a determination that Samantha hadn't heard in a long time, Holly said. "Is there anything I can do? There has to be something I can do." another long pause, Samantha's gaze dropped to her lap, she did not want to look like she was listening, in fear of her parent moving to a different room to continue what was no doubt a private conversation.

It was still.

Just when Samantha was about to look up to make sure that her mother was still there, the woman's voice breathed out, paper-thin. "All right, I'll be at the Robinsons in a few~ just let me know if anything changes." 

Click.

From the corner of her eyes, the young girl watched her mother slowly drop onto the kitchen chair. Samantha dared glance up, the woman's head was down, cushioned by her arms. Hesitantly, Samantha stood.

"Mom?" No answer.

Samantha took a few steps towards the kitchen, eyebrows raised; she noticed her mother's shoulders vaguely shaking.

"Mom?" she tried again. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing, love. I've got to go for a little while, You'll be fine on your own?" the voice was so soft had Samantha not been intently listening, She was sure she would not have heard her at all. Samantha took a deep breath, her hands gently clenching at her side.

"But, I can help." Samantha pleaded; she reached out and put a hand on her mother's lap with a gentle squeeze. She remembered all the times before when Holly was sad. It seemed delicate touches such as this always calmed her. This time, the woman simply curled tighter into herself.

"Something happened at the site." the woman informed her, voice monotone as if a computer had been reading it. "Cameron has gone missing, along with another colonist." Her voice broke when she said the word missing, and Samantha knew why. This was not the first call she'd gotten with these contents.

For a moment, all Sam could do was stare at her mother's lap, watching her long black hair drag across her shoulders and dangle.

Cameron Waddesdon was one of Holly's only friends--Well, not her only friend, the woman had more friends than Samantha had hair on her head, but Cameron was the best of them. When James went missing Cameron had never left her side, she had moved in with her mother and had personally set it as her goal to make things better. It had worked, until they reached Proxima Centauri. Cameron decided she could no longer live beside the woman and moved with her own family closer to the new colony site.

"So what can you do?" Her mother's voice startled Sam to snapping her gaze from the floor to her face, Holly was looking directly into her eyes, completely broken. And just like that, Samantha could tell Holly truly believed her friend would not come back.

"I~" Samantha broke off, she honestly did not know what she could do in this situation, but she had offered her aid, and would feel bad for having no words to say. 

So she said the only thing that came to her mind.

"She'll come back," Samantha promised. "It's a new planet; people are going to get lost."

"Samantha, you don't understand," Holly growled out, her eyes turned hard, Samantha hunched on herself, leaning back lightly at the tone. 

Her mother continued oblivious to her daughter's body language. "They don't come back, James didn't, she won't either. We~ I have to look for them" She broke off abruptly, slapping her fist into the kitchen table in a move that caused her daughter to step back. "Her." Holly reiterated. "I have to look for her." sound akin to a whine left her throat. "I have to go. Lock the door when I leave. Stay here."

Before she realized what she was saying, Samanth pitched foreword. "I want to go!" 

"No," Holly commanded. "You're not certified to leave the safe zone, Sam." She hurried for the door, grabbing nothing on her way out.

"I want to go!" Samatha yelled~ frustration bubbled up in her throat, she clenched her little fists and sneered at her mother. 

Holly turned just in time to catch that look. She disregarded her with a calm, but agitated look of her own. She then glared at Sam, _Hard._

 _Stay here or_ _else_ , the glare clearly read.

Without so much as a kiss goodbye, Holly turned and left her there. 

The young girl chased her to the doorway shortly after she'd closed it. She watched her mother hurry down the street towards the Robinsons house. 

She observed her form until she could no longer be seen, taken by the fog.

Once again, Sam was alone. 

She saw the colonists as they organized and left in their parties. She sat there, calm, and still for several minutes.

She didn't even realize she began crying until a tear dropped from her chin and landed on her breastbone. 

_Stay here._

Defiance riled up within her, Samanthas face scrunched up, as she let that anger push deep in the pit of her stomach.

She may be eleven, but she could do more than her mother thought.

She didn't have to listen. She didn't have to _obey._

Mind made up, Samantha dashed off towards her room. She grabbed up an old backpack and mindlessly began shoving things inside. 

She grabbed some spare clothes and a few nutrient packets. Then shoved several bottles of water into her bag. Back to the kitchen she went, searching every drawer until she found batteries and a flashlight, to the bathroom for a first aid kit, and a roll of toilet paper. 

The entire time, her mind was blank, but her heart surged with anger and defiance. How long would she be gone? Samantha didn't know or care. She was too angry to form a plan. 

She'd lived on her own for months once, and survived. She could do it again. 

A brief thought crossed her mind as she zipped up her backpack and slipped on a raincoat. Holly had lost so much; was it really such a good idea to make that loss greater?

It wasn't. 

It would destroy Holly.

Samantha would return; and when she did, she was sure her mother would hug her, cry on her shoulder, telling her how she was so very, very sorry for leaving her there. Sorry for how she's been acting. 

Things would go back to normal; she would have her mother back, they would be a real family, even if Dad was not around.

Gripping her flashlight, Samantha turned the doorknob and tossed open the door. A cold breeze instantly hit the exposed skin of her neck and face; it encouraged her resolve and gave her the strength to push away from her new home's safety.

_Stay._

She'd show her. 

Sam would show her mother that she could _handle herself._

She took off sprinting into the thick brush behind her home, and into the wilderness that was Proxima Centauri, leaving the front door wide open.

* * *

A look at her comms told Samantha that she'd been walking for half an hour now. She passed the perimeter a few minutes ago. The poles had been off; Sam guessed it was so the colonists could go off and search. She was thankful for it. Had they been on, her mission would be cut short, and her mother would _probably_ murder her.

Despite running headlong into unfamiliar territory purely as an act of defiance, Samantha Brennon still kept her eyes sharp, scanning through the rows of dark-colored trees, looking for any humans who may have gotten lost in these parts. The black grass crunched under her shoes, and she found herself having to watch where she stepped quite frequently. The terrain was much different from Earth; much more rugged. There were bushes, ferns, and grass that sometimes reached her knees and was so thick she had to wack it with sticks in order to pass through.

An hour into her mission and she began to tire, and the cold was getting to her, causing her to sniffle and occasionally sneeze. After a wet cough and the grumbling of her stomach, the girl had stopped and took a fresh look at her surroundings. There was a mountain in the distance before her, and nothing but back unnatural trees and large rocks nearby her. Despite being in the midst of unexplored territory, Samantha had a strong sense of direction. She knew which way she'd come from and understood that she could make it back home if she turned straight around.

Sam stuck the flashlight, handle down, into the wet dirt, then slipped off her backpack. She dug in it briefly before pulling out one of her nutrients bars. Without a care in the world, the girl sat down on a damp, waterlogged plant, and tore apart the package. She munched into it gracefully, even if it didn't taste as good as a cooked meal. 

The sound of rain against the plant life above calmed her; every so often, she'd hear an unfamiliar call of a small animal in the distance, and she would wonder what could possibly make the sound. The echoes of civilization were far behind her; it was peaceful out here. Somehow, she felt safer among this foreign dark world than she ever had in the dangerous silence of her new house. 

There was a tiny squeak, like the sound of a frightened mouse. The noise startled the girl until she caught sight of what caused it. There, meandering out from beneath some bracken, was a pudgy, shell-covered animal with big black eyes and a long, rounded snout. it wobbled around the small clearing, the feelers on its nose picked through the grounds clutter. A herbivore? Greatly interested in the cute animal, Samantha leaned foreword to get a better look.

It looked to be a mixture between a mole and a turtle, with dark green, hard-looking skin and small claws. neon green bioluminescence dotted the creature's skin like the spots of a dalmatian. It looked up at the girl when she moved, and regarded her with curious yet uncaring eyes. It did not perceive her as a threat and demonstrated this by padding its way slowly past her, occasionally stopping to dig in the musky dirt. 

She wondered if this creature had been discovered yet; she hadn't seen it being taught in school, nor was an animal like this mentioned by the adults. 

Something must have shifted in the forest behind her because the small animals head snapped up and focused on a spot just over Samantha's shoulder. It rooted itself in place for a single second, before with a high pitched squeal, took off in a zig-zag motion for the brush. 

Every atom of the girl's body stilled at that moment. She dared not breathe whilst she listened to the noises of the forest. What could have scared the small animal off? 

Cautiously, she reached out for her planted flashlight and gripped the metal in her hands, fully intending to shine it behind her to observe just what had disturbed her 'studies' 

_kkkh-ckkh._

She froze, mid-turn. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and her breath caught in her throat.

Then, _footsteps._

It was an alarming sound, like giant paws beneath floor clutter. 

She had to find cover. 

A guttural, animalistic growl burst directly behind her, Sam whirled around and there, shrouded by bracken, were two radiantly glowing, albeit distorted, golden eyes. 

Her heart hammered in her chest, and she knew remaining still would result in her death. 

the moment their eyes met, additional rows of bright amber began to glow down its spine, she could almost see a full outline of the beast by just the brightness of those florescent lights alone.

Fear overcame her. 

She bolted.

Around spires, through thick bushes, jumping over obstacles in her way. She cared nothing for the way the branches clawed at her clothes and tore into her delicate flesh. Behind her, the footfalls followed, powerful and fixed, crashing through the foliage with grunts and pants of enthusiasm. Direction was lost to her now, all she could think about was getting _away._

Somewhere along the way, she felt her backpack slip from her grasp, and a brief thought occurred that she should find it- that was her lifeline out here. If she somehow survived she'd need its contents.

She could not go back for it. 

Blood pounded in her ears as adrenaline overtook all her senses, she vaulted over a large moss-covered rock and nearly tripped on the landing. The inevitable dawned on her as she paused for merely a second to wildly look around: She was going to die here.

_She was going to die here._

Fear renewed, the young girl threw herself foreword again, panting heavily, so sure the creature was right behind her~

A vine caught beneath her shoe; she hit the ground face first with a sickening snap that had her squealing out in pain. She scrambled ahead and forced herself to her feet. Her face hurt, she could taste blood, but she couldn't stay, she could not worry about that now.

Then she discovered it, a cave in the outskirts just in front of her. She didn't stop to think that something as simple as a cave shrouded by black creepers would stop a hungry beast: she wasn't _thinking_ at all. Racing foreword, disregarding the pain in her twisted ankle, the girl batted back the dense vines covering the cave entrance and pushed herself inside. She plastered herself to the damp stone walls, turned off her flashlight, and covered her mouth with both hands to stop the frightened sobs from escaping her lips.

Everything was soundless. Not even the tones of nature could penetrate the tense atmosphere of pure _danger._

She could hear puffing sniffs of the being just outside, trying to track her. Tears flowed down her eyes, mixing with the blood. She prayed to whatever God out there that the animal would lose interest. That it was too stupid to look inside the hollow~

The puffing advanced closer, she began to shiver, but not from the chilly air. 

_She should have stayed home._

_Stupid! She was so stupid!_

The creature cawed out in distress, Samantha screamed~ so sure that the outcry was the result of her being discovered, she folded in on herself, protecting her head from whatever happened next. 

A long second went by, where nothing happened. 

Outside she could hear snarling and~ what was that? Rasping metal? 

The creature outside darted off with a roar, its paw steps beating strongly against the ground, seemingly escaping into the forest. 

Slowly she began to uncurl, both curious and fatigued. Blue stars danced in her vision. Faint yet familiar steps articulated at the front of the cavern, she twisted from her position and ultimately caught a glimpse of what had chased the animal off.

Two large, copper-colored legs. Not just any legs, but _m_ _etallic_ legs. 

Her vision trailed up the frame. Four long, clawed arms, and a sharp yet elegantly designed metal chest~ it so painfully familiar, the robot was hunched over, favoring its left side. Sparks flashed from several points of its mass. 

_Injured._

Her eyes met a red, riled up nebula that contemplated her tiny, curled up body with what Samanth could only guess was resentment. 

Flashbacks to her time on the Resolute cascaded across her imagination, and in that instant, she knew exactly who this was.

She'd spent months in his unwanted company before, hiding in the space station's crevices ~ from _him_. 

Swallowed by horror and shock, Samantha refused to look away from the swirling red nebula, it captured all of her attention and turned her mind into a jumbled mess. All she could manage in her state was a weak, broken word.

"S'sca-crow?" 

Exhaustion overtook her, with one last blink, Samanthas consciousness dimmed to black- leaving her at the mercy of the very robot she'd mastered hiding from.

* * *

_Are we the hunters?_

_Are we the hunted?_

_Are we the monsters?_

_Show me the fear under your skin..._

_Life is a game, are you gonna play now?_

_Should I run away, are you gonna stay now?_

_Who can you trust?_

_Are you one of us?'_

**_ -Monsters, Tommee Profitt._**


	2. Even If It Hurts

_'You blink once,_

_Then it's gone,_

_Don't let it take the skin from your bones._

_It's darkest,_

_Before the dawn,_

_But you don't need to do this alone…_

_No, you don't._

_'Cause when you get this close,_

_You can feel the heat,_

_Now you're so afraid,_

_Of what's underneath,_

_Oooh…_

_Don't..._

**_Even If It Hurts, Sam Tinnesz._ **

* * *

Awareness crept back to her, and for some unknown reason, before she even was fully conscious, she licked her lips.

Whatever was on her lips tasted salty and bitter, with a hint of iron as if she had just touched a dirty doorknob and then bit a fingernail. She was cold. Guessing from the slight breeze that tickled the hair on the back of her neck, she could tell that she was outside. 

Where was she?

Cracking open her eyes, Darkness greeted her. Samantha could see the tops of spires through what resembled thick vines and a dark night sky between the foliage. She shifted on a solid surface that she found herself laying on, wincing at her movement's pain.

Samantha groaned; she lifted a hand and pressed it against her throbbing nose, hardened blood crusted off beneath her fingers touch. She briefly looked around, searching for some kind of reflective surface so she could check the damage. What she saw was indeed a reflective surface, but it was glowing red.

Samantha flung herself back into the cave wall with a startled yelp, disregarding the sharp pain from her shoulder that came of it. There, leaned against the back of the hollow, was an injured robot.

She fought with herself to calm her breathing; every inch of her body and mind told her to run. She did not; she simply sat there in what was perhaps amazement and awe.

_ Scarecrow.  _

Scarecrow looked up at her movement, dragging his nebula across her body; otherwise, he did not move. He did not chase her, nor did he move to grab her.

Samantha was interested and still a little frightened, but his lack of movement spoke volumes.

She began remembering what happened to her; she went running into the forest without thinking anything through, wanting nothing more than to scare her mother into loving her like she had when Dad was around. She had been chased around by some giant hungry creature and then wound up in this cave. Scarecrow had saved her.

Why?

This was a mistake; she should not have come out here.

However, it seemed that Scarecrow was not interested in killing her today. Samantha felt like if she moved from her spot, he would come after her with a vengeance, remembering all the times she'd slipped away from him on the resolute.

So Samantha decided not to move.

Her comm unit must have been damaged when she fell because the screen was black, and no lights came from the buttons. She hadn't the slightest idea what time it was, only that it was still night time. No one had moved, and Scarecrow remained in his position, hunched over himself, his body occasionally letting out whines and cracks of protest.

The longer she sat there and watched him watch her, the safer she felt in his presence. 

_ Do. Not. Move.  _

It felt like hours before Scarecrow finally stirred from his position; he shifted to the right and gradually laid himself down on the cold stone floor. He studied his stomach and then look back at Samantha, his nebula moved, and although Samantha could not read what he had said, she had the feeling he was asking for help.

He had plenty of time to hurt, kill her, or maim her, but he had not. She decided that she could not sit here and watch him suffer like this. She had to do something.

Holding out her hands in a calming manner, the girl stood and made her way oh so cautiously towards the injured alien. The metal of Scarecrows body sucked in on itself, he hid the injury he had just been watching, and she got the feeling that he was not comfortable at her sudden advance. So Samantha stopped for a moment, took a breath, and said as sweetly as she could.

"it's okay." Samantha hummed. "I won't hurt you." she pressed forward, one tiny step after another; she was close enough now that he could reach out and gouge holes through her stomach if he wanted to. He pushed himself further into the cave wall in what seemed like a play to get away from her.

That didn't seem right.

The Scarecrow she knew would not be frightened of a little girl, the Scarecrow she had spent months with but never spoken to would never shy away from a human. He would attack with fearsome vigor an impossible strength.

This was the robot that had survived years at the hands of humans; she had watched him from the Jupiter window as they were making their escape from the resolute and had seen him fight off the other robots with such force Thor would be jealous of his bravery.

She stopped what had to be a foot away from his frame and knelt down before him. 

"My name's Samantha, I don't know if you remember me, but I remember you." She didn't quite know what she was looking at when she tilted her head and rested her eyes over his damage. Most of it was on his shoulders and chest, deep claw-marks from what had to have been another robot littered his front. Instead of blood, tendril-like wires hung out and sparked at the ends; it looked painful. 

Scarecrow lifted his arm to show her the extent of his wounds. From there, she could see that the claw marks mixed with burned and charred metal, no doubt from the weapons the robot said used against him. Had he had blood, it would have been pouring. And that moment, she was glad that he did not have any because if he had, he would have bled out already.

She reached out and traced a single finger across a sharp end of singed metal on his chest. A low growl came from the creature's throat, laced with static metallic undertones. Samantha pulled away perhaps a bit too quickly; as she pulled away, Scarecrow swiped at her, seemingly frightened of her movement. 

She tripped backward, once more hitting the wall of the cave. Scarecrow had chased after the movement, and although he was injured, he proved to still be ready-And fast. In the blink of an eye, a clawed hand slammed hard against the stone mere inches away from her head. He pinned her there without touching her, talons scraping hard into the rock, leaving light grey streaks in its wake.

His nebula swirled angrily in a warning Samantha took to heart.

_ Dont touch the angry robot. _

Fear renewed, Samantha stood there, petrified, unable to move. 

His left leg gave out, causing the copper-colored robot to trip to the side a little; he seemed to play the movement off by yanking himself away from the wall. He turned his back to the terrified girl and limped back to the cave's far end.

He lowered himself cautiously to the ground and sat with a thump and a ringing groan. He stared up at Samantha, the stars of his face contorted and swirled as if he was thinking.

And then, in a voice both raspy and deeper than the oceans of Earth, he spoke.

"Help, Samantha."

All Samantha could do was stare down at this frail, broken body in pure shock. He had spoken to her and ask for her help even though he had nearly hurt her. Determination fired up in her veins like a gunshot to a propane tank.

"I can't hu-help you if you attack me," Samantha said; she tried to sound calm, but her voice came out shaky. Could he feel her fear? 

He judged her, appearing to search her face to answer all his questions. Still frozen in place, Samantha stared back, up until he once again moved to expose his wounds in the invitation.

She would trust him, but only as far as she could throw him.

Which wasn't far.

"Okay." Inching away from the wall, she knelt down once more before the robot, and this time with much less hesitation, stretched out for his wound. "I just want to see all of it," she told him, figuring that speaking while she worked would be something that would help the robot; Samantha doubted the humans before explained what they were doing to him when they were hurting him.

"I don't know what I can do for you," She admitted sadly. Samantha took a breath to think; he was a machine, right? Would she be able to fix him had she had the correct tools? A wielder, for instance, to glue the severed wires back together?

As she thought over how she could fix him, Scarecrow regarding her following her every movement. He barely moved only to shift a certain way to improve his position so she could get a better glimpse at his injuries. 

"I think there's some spare metal in the garage." Samantha spoke more to herself as she thought. "Maybe I could wield the metal over your wounds, I know that if you put a Band-Aid on a cut, it stops it from hurting as much 'cuz it's not exposed to the air. Is it the same way as you? Do you heal on your own like we do?" Samantha half-expected the robot to answer her, though she knew from the brief time she had observed Will and his robot that speaking verbally something that they didn't do very often, and only in grave situations.

It was all in the lights.

"So maybe if I melt the wires back together and then... Cover the gouges with scrap metal? would that help?" Scarecrow looked at her, nebula spread in what could have been an active volcano erupting, or the vague image of a human with their hands up and surrender.

During their time alone with all the children on the Jupiter, Samantha remembered Will mentioning the robots' health could be seen by how many lights they had on their glass. Scarecrow had many lights, they all shown brightly, they moved in a way that looked as if they were being halted buy thick ink, or quicksand. He was not near death, from that knowledge alone. But he must be in a tremendous amount of pain

After giving his wounds one more look over, Samantha rose to her full height and gave him one long, long look.

"I'm going to try to find my way home," she said, looking towards the cave entrance, feeling more than fearful of What lies beyond this place's safety. "And when I do, I'm going to come back, with something that can help you." 

She moved to leave but was stopped by a strong hand clasping over her ankle, which was hurt. She let out a hiss of pain and yanked her foot away from Scarecrow; the copper robot snapped his arm back at the sound. 

Samantha glared down at him as he lifted the same offending talon and pointed to her face.

Unconsciously she reached out to touch her nose, and once again, she could feel flakes of blood beneath her fingers. It was swollen, and it hurt to handle, but she could live through a broken nose; Scarecrow seemed more critical right now.

"It's... Nothing." she was quick to say, turning to look at the cave wall as if to hide her injuries that had already been seen. "Besides, I dropped my backpack while I was running, it had my first aid kit in it. I can look for it on the way home and clean myself up before I come back." 

Scarecrows claw moved from her face to point at a place behind her. She followed his digit and blinked. Perched against few crumpled ferns was her backpack, her brows creased with confusion. 

"How did it get here?" she asked, sparing a glance back at Scarecrow to look at him before he gave a lazy, somehow smug shrug.

"You brought it back?" again, the alien shrugged, is nebula dusted a very light pink, and he switched his gaze to the far end of the cavern as if the vines hiding them from the view of the world was the most exciting thing in the universe at this moment.

"You did, didn't you?" once again, Scarecrow shrugged. Scarecrow glanced back at the backpack and fixed his face upon it, It is nebula returned to red, and the stars in its glass spread further apart. Samantha didn't know what he was saying, but despite everything, she was smiling.

"You totally did." Scarecrow decided not to answer her and pretend altogether that she was just not there. He lowered his arm and return back to laying down.

Still wearing that grin, Samantha made her way towards her backpack and picked it up.

"Do you want me to fix myself first?" Scarecrow gave a brief and shallow nod.

She limped over to him and sat back down, Sam zipped up her backpack and took a long look inside, her stomach growled at the sight of the nutrient bars, and as she dug for the first aid kit, she sat a bar aside along with a water bottle.

When she finally found the kit, she pulled it out beneath a layer of clothes and popped it open. On the underside was a mirror made of aluminum foil. She took a good look at her and winced at how bad she looked, her nose was swollen and raw, and blood mixed with the dried trails of tears was all over her face. She flinched, pulling out a sanitizer wipe to clean the blood from her face.

She couldn't imagine what her mother would think if she returned home in this state. What would she say? That she had been fighting with a hungry beast and was saved by a robot, who was presumed dead? A quick glance down at her clothes proved her mother would no doubt believe her story.

Then she'd be wrapped up in bubble wrap and stuck in her room for the rest of her life.

Samantha decided she would not tell her mother what she found today.

Setting a new pair of clothes aside, Samantha turned to Scarecrow with a small smirk. "I can't go home looking like this, do you mind... turning away?" Obeying her words, Scarecrow put his helm down and covered it with all four of his arms; Samantha snorted at the action, mostly because he looked really weird like that.

"No peeking." the little girl directed. Samantha stripped and cursed herself and how cold it was, but told herself that she would be able to go home in no time. She would find a blanket, and then she would spend the night out here with Scarecrow and work on his frame.

She used the same sanitizer wipe to clean off all of the cuts and scrapes on her body as she sat there exposed to the world. She put a Band-Aid and antibiotics on all of the cuts that looked like they could get infected. 

Her ankle was swollen and in pretty bad shape, so walking home would be a challenge; if another Beast decided to appear like the last time, she did not think that she could escape.

She started having second thoughts. How was she going to get home if she struggled to get here? She had no idea what direction was civilization, and what direction was more untamed and unknown wilderness. She suddenly realized just how easy it was to get lost on a new planet. All the engineers who had gone missing might be in the same boat as her.

After wrapping up and cleaning her wounds, she got redressed into a warmer pair of clothes. She debated whether or not she should take her old clothes with her and chose not to. It would ensure that she had to come back. She would.

Samantha folded up her clothes and set them beside Scarecrow, and then she put her pack beside it.

"Okay, I'm going to go now. But I promise I will come back, and I'll come back with something that will help you." Holding her flashlight to her chest, she made her way to the entrance. The closer she got, the more fear overwhelmed her; she did not want to go back out there, back out into the unknown, were beasts could be waiting for her.

It seemed like she wouldn't have to go alone; behind her she heard the shifting of metal scraping up against stone, Samantha leaned to see Scarecrow standing albeit wobbly, and it clearly looked like it hurt him to stand, he had a hand against the rocks, but she could feel his resolve.

He was coming with her. 

She was grateful.

His body whined as he reached out and picked up her backpack. He dangled it in his hand as if he did not know what to do with it at first. Samantha held out her hand.

"I can take it." Scarecrow took a step back, his nebula dancing. Samantha couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay, so you'll take it." She drawled and pushed back the vines.

"Are you sure you want to come?" she pressed, not liking how he was favoring one side of his body, and the way his sparks little brighter as he moved.

"Safe, Samantha." Scarecrow pointed to himself, and she understood quickly enough that he didn't even need to make the gesture. She understood before he'd even stood from his spot. 

"Okay, let's go."

Feeling much braver, now that she had an alien following to protect her, Samantha slipped into the wild once more, this time she was not angry nor was she looking to make a point.

For some reason unknown to her, this previously violent alien robot wanted to protect her. Perhaps the creature had a sense of mortality, and knew a young species when he saw it. Scarecrow did not wish to her to be harmed? Or maybe he just felt like he had to somehow pay her back for the repairs she promised to give him.

She just hoped that Scarecrow knew that she was no engineer and that her repairs may not work. 

Despite being afraid of the giant creature that lumbered behind her as she retraced her steps to the forest, she could not help but feel excited.

Shortly after arriving on Proxima Centauri, Samantha had begun to develop some sort of obsession with Robot. Their houses were not far from Samantha's own home. Often, she would look out the window, and watch Will and his robot as they went about their lives. Since the moment she saw a Robot on the resolute with Will by his side, Samantha knew that she wanted to comprehend all she could about their species.

Samantha recognized that what Will has with Robot, was quite rare. And she knew that friendly robots in itself were even rarer. She only knew of a few, but they were pilots, and we're never seen in public. 

Scarecrow kept his distance as they walked. They took it slow, not because Scarecrows injuries were hindering him, but because Samantha was conscious that he was hurt. And that she was hurt.

She asked herself repeatedly in her mind why Scarecrow decided not to kill her. She could also ask why he chose to help Will and the other children escape, but she would only get an answer if she asked.

Even then, she doubted she'd get an answer she understood.

Instead, she kept quiet and focused all her attention on putting as little pressure on her ankle as she could. 

* * *

_'Even if it hurts,_

_Even if it makes me bleed,_

_I'm gonna carry you,_

_Pushing through,_

_With the dirt on my sleeves._

_Even if it hurts,_

_Even if it's razor deep,_

_I'm not giving up,_

_Not gonna run,_

_I'll be there when you need me._

_Even if it hurts..._

_Even if it hurts..._

**_Even If It Hurts, Sam Tinnesz._ **


	3. Blame It On The Humans

* * *

_'In the future, just computers._

_No-one here to start a war._

_With the garden, just a picture._

_No-one looks at it anymore._

_In our world, we forget about our mothers,_

_Maybe we'll start to fade away._

_'Cause if we don't give a fuck about each other,_

_It's all over,_

_All over._

_If we fall,_

_Blame it on the humans._

_Yeah, if we fall,_

_Who saves us from these ruins?'_

_**KlOUD - Humans.** _

* * *

Samantha was sure hours had gone by the time they reached the Perimeter. she felt a wave of relief pass through her at the site of the buildings in the distance and couldn't help but glance back at Scarecrow with a grin of pure excitement.

"We're here!" Samantha exclaimed while battling back a couple of ferns. She pretty much ran the last stretch. She noticed the perimeter alarms were still off, and she wondered how safe that was. If a beast like she had seen in the wilds had gotten into the colony, it would be chaos.

She was happy that she had Scarecrow to keep her safe if he _would_ keep her safe. For all she knew, he was only here to be repaired and would leave as soon as her job was finished; she felt a little jealous over that matter. She wanted her own robot, just like Will had his own robot, and even though the Resolute captains technically had their own robots, they did not have a connection. And that's what Samantha wanted. She wanted to learn about these connections; she wanted to feel it for herself, to discover them.

She never told anybody about this obsession she had with the alien species. With any alien species really, back on Earth, she had always watched movies about friendly aliens, then groaned, and avoided movies where they were portrayed as evil, usually without reason. Deep down, Sam knew that they were not alone in the universe. How could they be? 

The girl banished her thoughts as soon as they reached the residence area. It was still relatively early in the morning, probably. So not many people would be out and about… Probably. Especially now that they were all off-site searching for the missing engineers. Samantha knew she had to be careful. 

She crouched low to the ground, glimpsing back at Scarecrow, he stared at her with a slow-moving nebula. She could see the back of her home, and more importantly, the siding of her father's designated workshed. Molly had gotten the garage to do her planting; the workshed was supposed to be her father's study. 

Obviously, it wasn't now. Her mother would not set foot in the place even though James hadn't made it to the planet to leave his essence there. That worked out in Samantha's favor.

Down the road a bit, she could see someone walking, what they were doing out so late, Sam wouldn't bother to ask them, but she forced herself to wait until she could no longer see them. "See that blueish building?" Samantha pointed to the shed's general area; she didn't wait for a reply. "That's where we're going. I don't know how long mom's gonna be gone, but she won't ever look in there. You'll be safe till you get fixed." 

Stepping out from behind the brush, the girl cautiously made her way home. Behind her, Scarecrow dropped down onto all fours to, apparently, be less noticeable. Now, out in the open, there was little to no high foliage to hide the robot from view. If anyone decided to look out their window~

She didn't want to think about that. 

He wasn't precisely snapping to look like a human-like Robot could, so the option of being mistaken for said Robot was non-existent. 

Shed reached, Samantha crouched down and began searching the ground for the half-buried key they left outside. She couldn't remember exactly where it was hiding; she hoped mom hadn't decided on a new hiding spot. 

_Crunch_

Sam stood in a whirlwind of movements, So fast, she nearly toppled backward. She spun around to address whoever had caused the noise, expecting an angry-looking adult. Her brain fumbled through excuses~ excuses it appeared she didn't need to come up with. 

Of course, her brown eyes met that of the crouched form of Scarecrow, who was currently studying something laid out on the ground. A Porcelain lawn ornament, which was now in pieces beneath the robot's mighty pede. He poked at its colorless remnants with a long, dangerous claw, All the while, his helm tilted to the side, clearly puzzled.

"Crow!" Samantha whisper-yelled. This time, it was Scarecrow who darted to a stand in a whirlwind of movement; he stumbled to the side as though her harshly whispered words had physically pushed him. 

"That was my mom's favorite! She had it since she was a kid. She's gonna be so mad when she finds out~" For the most part, Scarecrow seemed unapologetic about the entire thing; after righting himself, His nebula returned to its slow crimson.

He used his foot to sweep the ornaments remains closer to its unsmashed counterparts. Like that would fix the issue.

"Wow." Sam sighed, tapping her palm against her forehead. "It's... alright, just… Stand still while I get this open okay?"

The robot limped past, and with no effort at all, he, legitimately, used a fist to punch the door in. Said door swung back and crashed into a metal rack inside, causing the thing to tumble and clatter sideways to the floor.

Loudly.

She swore she heard him purr as he strode past her into the shed. 

That settled it, Scarecrow did not listen as well as Robot did. She needed to start a research journal.

_'Day one of babysitting a sassy injured alien._

_He broke my mother's favorite earth artifact and punched open the shed door. Can robots purr? Because I swear mine just did.'_

Samanta stepped inside and closed the broken door as well as she could behind her. The pain in her ankle felt numb now, which was probably not a good thing, but she was able to fix the empty metal rack without much struggle, with no help from the perpetrator, of course.

The shed had a single, meager and narrow window at its back facing the wilds, which meant it was safe to turn the light on without worrying about anyone wondering what was going on in there. Not that they should worry, It was none of their business.

When she turned to address Scarecrow she found him curled up in the far right corner of the vacancy, between the wall and an empty desk. Looking at him now, it was impossible to tell that he was a ten-foot robot with several arms that could kill whenever and whatever it wanted. He looked so… Fragile, curling in on himself like that. 

Maybe he was used to being in a cramped cage, so much so that it's just how his body decided to rest now.

It was a depressing thought.

She blinked away the thought train before it had a chance to surface fully. She stayed by the door, keeping her distance; Samantha was beginning to understand that Scarecrow would like it better if she were not close.

"Okay, so you get settled; I'm going to go grab a few things, then we can get started, Kay?" He gazed at her for a long moment, and Samantha had a feeling she would have to get used to him just looking at her. His nebula shifted, then he made a sweeping gesture towards the door. As if telling her to go. 

"I'll be back," she promised. "Soon. dont…" Sam paused, would telling him what not to do, be a good idea? He seemed to do the opposite of whatever she said; whether it was on purpose or not was a mystery.

"Just… Stay quiet." And with that, she slipped out the entryway and bolted for her mother's garage. 

The door was still open as had left it at the beginning of her journey; a quick glance around proved that everything was still in place inside her house. She didn't have to worry about anybody stealing anything, though, because criminals were a rare breed on the planet now, at least it was assumed to be that way.

She made her way back to where the garage's door was and moved inside, and without a doubt, the girl began to plunder the shelves and search for any type of scrap metals that could be used. It wasn't long until she found a battery-powered wielder, the ones the engineer's used on the resolute. What her mother was doing with one Samantha would never know, but she was thankful none the less. 

After a few minutes of extra searching, she discovered where the batteries charger was located; without further reluctance, she plugged it in to charge while she began looking for and loading different size scrap metals onto her mother's potting cart.

Most of the metal here was from what looked like Jupiter's, dirtied pearl white and jagged from most likely being torn off the ships' side. Again, why her mother kept pieces of an old spaceship in her Garden Garage was beyond Samantha. But still, she was thankful.

On her way to the living room with a cart full of rattling metal, Samantha stopped. Her eyes traveled to the far sink in the kitchen where she had just come from, a little thought entered her mind.

_Should I clean him up?_

_Does he need to be clean?_

_Does he know how to bathe himself?_

Her questions would probably never be answered, but in the end, she grabbed a pot from under the kitchen sink and a rag from the drying wrack. She filled up the bucket partially with dish soap and water, then the pot on the very bottom of the gardening cart. She doubted she would be able to get close enough to actually watch the robot off. But anything could happen.

Even though no one was home to hear her, Samantha still hauled the small cart as quietly as she could through the house. Once she made it outside, she struggled to get the thing over the bumpy terrain but eventually made it to the shed.

She kicked in the already broken door and wheeled inside; as soon as it was safely beyond, she closed the door as well as she could and peeped around; it was really dark in here. Should she turn on the light?

A sound she'd heard only once or twice before took her attention from that thought. Scarecrow was making that sound again, that graddy, growling-like breath that reminded her of a rundown Chariot with engine troubles. Did the robots need to breathe? Or was that just his systems in disarray?

Whatever it might be, she wanted to fix it.

Ever so cautiously, Samantha brought the cart to a stop. Pulling out the half charge welder from beneath some metal, Samantha held it up to show the robot specifically what she had in her hand. She didn't know what had happened to him during his time being a slave to the Resolute, but she guessed seeing the tools such as this would set him off.

She was right.

Scarecrow jerked at the sight of the small tool, and once more, he snarled. His metal sucked in close to his body as he attempted to make himself look smaller, a defense mechanism that Samantha had read that only pray used.

"I'm not going to hurt you with this, I promise," Samantha said as nicely as she could, she took a step, and when Scarecrow did not move otherwise, she took another.

"It's called a welder; it's used to melt metal back together like a patch job. I don't remember Will ever mentioning how he fixed Robot when he was damaged, so this is the only solution I have; I can't let you sit around like this."

His nebula whirled in a concerned and unforgiving way; it told Samantha that if she made a single mistake within the next 20 minutes, she would undoubtedly regret it. She did know how much time she had before her mother would return, but if the absence of the other adults was anything to go by, they would be gone for a few more days, at least she hoped.

It would give her plenty of time to see if her plan would work.

"Are you ready, Crow?" the robot's head tilted again, and his nebula look took on a more curious tint. Samantha raised an eyebrow, and although she could not tell what he was thinking, and could barely understand what his stars spoke. She got the feeling he was curious about the nickname she had abruptly decided to give him. 

Not many know about Samantha; she always kept to herself and had little friends in the past; she pushed herself into her studies to become an astrobiologist and felt more relaxed when she was by herself. But when she did have friends, who were mostly over the Internet, she always gave them nicknames. They were easier to remember than a full first and last name, more straightforward to remember than a long screen name.

Yes, Scarecrow is scary, but he also reminded her of a crow, just a regular crow. With broken wings. The small, winged blackbird of Earth was known for their adaptability and their intelligence.

Humans saw them as a nuisance for damaging their crops. Some thought of them as an omen, the epiphany of evil, And the devil's Reincarnation in an animals skin. Despite all of that, the harsh stigmas that revolved around the species. They were moderately gentle creatures at heart. 

And to her, they were beautiful, she would instead call scarecrow, Crow, because even though he could not fly, his strength, perseverance, and his willingness to change shined through.

Something tiny bounced off her shoe; looking down, she noticed a petite screw rolling away. She pursed her lips and looked up at the robot, or preferably straight ahead at the robot. 

He was still gaping at her curiously, but his stars were stretched. His claws, however, were pinched in just the right way that proved him guilty of having thrown the screw. Who knew Scarecrow could be so playful?

Or maybe she had just gotten lost in thought, yeah, that's what it was. She was staring blankly ahead after asking if Crow was ready, and he was just trying to bring her back to the present.

"Sorry." Samantha breathed out, a little bit of a laugh present. "I was just thinking about something, anyway. Are you ready?"

His head turned down slightly in what she could only assume was a nod, and with that, she took the remaining steps until she was within arm's length of him. She sat down with her legs crossed and drawn out the bucket of soapy water and the rang; she might as well start with this first; when healing a wound on a human, it was always essential to clean the wound to limit the amount of dirt that would get into the cut. It was probably not the same for a robot, but there was nothing wrong with making sure.

Besides, it would help him get used to her touch and make his injuries much more comfortable to tend to.

"Let's start with the one on your arm." She pointed to his top right arm, which had what resembled a claw mark dug down the length of it. Oils and dirt clung to the wound, and that made her feel uneasy. She held out her arm, and for an anxious four seconds, Scarecrow did nothing. he stared at her tiny hand like he didn't know what to do with it. She would give anything to know exactly what he was thinking right now.

Then, after the sixth second, he showed her an incredible amount of trust by lifting up the exact arm in question and leaned it towards her. Samantha felt a swell of pride deep in her chest and from that feeling budded a smile. She would be lying if she thought she would get anywhere with him tonight; maybe he was just exhausted and tired of lying around in discomfort.

She took his arm and was surprised as to how warm it was. Hadn't Will said they were constructed cold? Maybe his systems were running too hard as they tried to repair? And it was causing the area to heat up more? She didn't know, but she didn't want to waste any more time thinking about it.

Dipping the rag in the water, she rang it out and firmly took hold of his arm. She felt his limb tense up as soon as her fingers curled around the metal, but he did not move.

"So, yeah. I don't know if this is going to help you, but it doesn't feel right fixing a wound when it's still dirty." Sam began rubbing away the dirt around the injury with the rag, surprised with how grimy he was, the cloth was brown, but she could still see the ground showing on it.

"This is just water." Samantha reiterated, making sure to tell him exactly what she was doing while she was doing it. Hopefully, he could understand everything she was saying, and she was sure he did. 

"When humans get dirty, we use water to clean ourselves up. If we don't, we start to smell, and we could get infections and get very sick. And I'm almost done... All right, it's all clean." Scarecrow brought his arm back rather quickly as soon as she said it was done; the swift movement caused the girl to jump but only slightly. He inspected his arm thoroughly, turning it this way and that. It was so easy to notice the difference. He was a very bright copper beneath the layers of muck that covered his body; it was a miracle the color shown through it at all.

"Oh no, we're not done." Samantha snickered, albeit she sounded very mischievous when she said it; Scarecrows head jerked up to me her eyes and his stars clumped together, possibly in worry?

"This one's rather thin compared to the other ones," Sam replied that. She set the cloth back into the water and let it soak in there for a while. She dried her hands and reached for the wielder, very gently. "So I don't think that I need to put some metal over it. I think all I need to do it's just melt it back together. The one on your chest and the one on your shoulder I'll need to put some metal on."

Samantha was so surprised by how passive he was being. This time she didn't even have to hold out her hand, he presented his arm back to her with minimal hesitation, and once more, she smiled. 

They were getting somewhere.

"You're so brave, Crow." She complimented, trying to boost his ego if she could even raise a robot's ego. It seemed to work because his shoulders rose, and he sat up just a little bit higher.

"Very brave, Samantha." the last thing she was expecting was for him to talk again. Because Robot barely talked at all. Samantha guessed it just goes to show that these creatures had their own personalities despite being, well, robotic. She had a feeling scarecrow liked to vocalize when he could.

She didn't know if he was calling Samantha brave or calling himself brave, she would go with the second option because whatever got him to not hurt her while working. Was better.

"Oh, the _bravest_." Samantha continued; she flicked on the wielder and, from the tip, sprouted a small tuft of blue flame. Scarecrows body creaked in the way the aliens bodies did, where that weird foreign sound came from deep within them; she paused and looked him straight in the screen and spoke.

"You okay?" he did not answer, but he did not pull away. If anything, his armor what's more relaxed, but he still sat with half his body pushed into the wall, as if at any second he could become one with it and disappear.

She held their breath while she leaned in, her hands were shaking, but Samantha tried to steady them best she could; if the girl messed up now, she could end up being a bloody splatter on the floorboards.

"I'm going to start with the top." She told him; his entire body went deathly still, and not a sound rattled from it. She was half an inch from touching his metals with the wielder when something on his face changed.

She could not fully grasp that change because, within half a breath, her world became a blur that faded directly into darkness.

She had no idea when she closed her eyes, but when she opened them, she had a throbbing pain at the base of her head, and her arm stung like a swarm of bees had attacked it.

She blinked away the spinning from her eyes and abruptly realized she was on the other side of the place. Samantha sucked in a breath, Scarecrow was still in the same spot that she had left him, aside from the fact that he was sitting upright now. His red screen glaring at her from across the room.

It took only a few seconds to realize what had happened. Scarecrow had struck her when he felt the heat against his arm. She peered down at her stinging forelimb and gasped at the thick cut that welled with blood; it was in a dangerous spot; she knew she didn't put pressure on it right now she would bleed out.

Fear overwhelmed her. How could she be so stupid? Why would she ever think this was a good idea, to help heal an injured, hostile alien robot? Who had chased around a ship for months trying to kill her? 

Scarecrow stared at her from across the room, but all he could see in her eyes was terror. She scrambled up and ran out of the shed without saying a single word, leaving the door wide open as if saying, you're free to go whenever you want, you asshole.

Tears rolled down her cheeks like a waterfall from the Earth as she threw herself through the front door, closed, and locked it behind her as if that small lock would stop Scarecrow. Into the bathroom, she stumbled in search of one of the many first aid kits in the cupboards. She sat down with her back against the door and immediately began wrapping the wound.

All the while, all she could think was how stupid she was. Why would she ever believe that she could have a connection with a robot? How dare she think that she was better than anybody else that could have possibly gained his trust? She was human. He hated humans.

How dare she believe she could change him?

After she had wrapped up her wound and turn off all the lights in the house, she took some painkillers. She went straight to her room and buried herself beneath the blankets. Inside she felt miserable, and for some reason, she felt criminal.

She continued to cry silently. Wiping the tears from her eyes on her blankets, she'd been wrong. Scarecrow was no Robot. he was going to hurt her, any chance he could get. She was wrong.

So very, very wrong.

In her mind, she wanted him to be gone by morning, returned back to his cave.

But deep down in her heart, she hoped that when she woke up, he would still be there.

It took no more than a few minutes to cry herself into a restless sleep.

* * *

Scarecrow blankly stared out the open door.

The girl had run away so quickly he had barely registered the fact that she was gone.

He stared for a couple of hours, perhaps wondering if the girl would come back. 

She did not. 

He stared for a couple more, maybe this time, wondering if he should leave.

The injured robot pushed himself up using the wall and very gradually, he made his way to the door of the shed.

His stars were far apart, and there was no telling what he thought as he peered out into the world beyond, into civilization.

 _Human_ civilization.

Instead of stepping out, Scarecrow grabbed the doors' handle and sealed himself inside. 

* * *

_'If we fall_

_Blame it on the humans,_

_Yeah, if we fall_

_Who saves us from these ruins?_

_We fall~_

_We fall~_

_If we fall~_

_~Blame it on the humans.'_

** _KLOUD - Humans._ **


	4. Heaven

* * *

_'I wanna give you my life_   
_If you're joining this ride_   
_I could tell you my secrets_

_Oh You just need to let go_   
_I can give you my soul_   
_Have you tear it to pieces_

_I think we could reach heaven_   
_If we go through hell,_

_If we go through hell_   
_And trust each other,_

_We could ring the bells_

_I think we could reach heaven_   
_If we go through hell_

_If we go through hell_   
_And trust each other_

_We could ring the bells'_

_**Solence - Heaven.** _

* * *

It was Friday; she had missed Thursday's school day due to a lack of a muse to get up and do anything. Since her mother was currently gone for many days, Samantha didn't exactly HAVE to follow the scheduled routine.

She hadn't checked the shed before she left, though she knew curiosity would tear her apart during the school day. She couldn't bring herself to look at it, and instead, cast her gaze down to her wrapped up arm, hid generously by a long sleeve shirt beneath her uniform.

She'd slept a full night's sleep, but still, she was tired. Disappointment and guilt swirled throughout her mind; having some time to think, she felt bad for how she reacted to Scarecrow. What was she expecting? For him to stay calm the entire time, wrap her up in a hug, and thank her?

Once more, the memory of her father rose to the forefront of her mind. It was a sad one, the day the family cat had passed from old age. A much younger Samantha remembered standing there, eyes so full of tears that the world was nothing but a haze, her eyes locked on a small mound of dirt. Her father next to her with an arm around her shoulders.

_"It hurts."_ She remembered responding, clenching her shirt where her heart laid beneath.

_"It's going to hurt, baby." He'd said, his tone somber yet wise. "These things take time."_

These things take time...

Yeah, her expectations had gotten out of control. She should be happy at the very least that Scarecrow hadn't torn her asunder for her actions and had the strength to pull himself back and prevent her from further harm.

She knew this wouldn't be one large battle, ended in a single shot. As she walked to school the morning after, she began to realize that Scarecrow would be a series of many battles, some a step foreword, some a step back. He would end up hurting her again, whether he meant it or not. But that did not mean she was defeated.

Determination rose like a flutter of doves through her intestines, her fists clenched at her side not in anger but with resolve.

She had to keep trying, she was no soldier, but Samantha was strong. She couldn't- no, she _wouldn't_ give up after one failed attempt.

She had a feeling Scarecrow wouldn't either.

He had let her in that night. Hed _saved_ her. A _human. Scarecrow_ allowed Samantha to walk him to her home with the end goal of _taking care of him._

Hed already did so much more than anyone thought possible for the alien.

A smile broke out across her features, and she looked up at the sky above.

_She was proud._

Going to school felt as normal as it could to young Samantha; she made it to homeroom with barely a minute to spare and spent the majority of her day lost in daydreams and thoughts about how she could better Scarecrow. Fake scenes and scenarios where she would coax the alien to overcome his fears and grow to trust each other.

The more she thought, the worst her mood began to plummet. She should have checked the shed before she left because she had the sinking suspicion that Scarecrow was gone, back to his cave, or off to find some other human to fix him.

During lunch, she kept her eyes trained on Will, and though she knew her actions were quite stalkerish, she couldn't stop herself. He was just so interesting to Samantha. If this boy could do it, so could she.

As she zoned out, staring at his brown hair, she imagined telling him about Scarecrow, she pictured his reaction: happy yet worried. She tell him. Will Robinson would be the best person to go to about fixing her newfound responsibility out of every human in this new world.

_Just get up and ask him, you dummy. He won't tell._

Samantha took one last sip of her milk carton before she got up and threw out her half-eaten food.

_I'll just ask him how he fixed Robot. That's_ _it._

The less anyone knew about Scarecrow, the better.

Even if he was gone, she would still keep him a secret.

She turned, eyes glinting in the yellowish light of the cafeteria. She took one step, then another, but by the time she mustered up the courage to walk a little faster, Will, along with his group of friends, had already gotten up and were on their way out, heading in her direction.

She stopped in her tracks.

_It's now or never._

_Ask him._

_Ask._

Her throat closed up and any words she could have said died right then and there on her tongue. Will appeared to be so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the shorter girl watching him with big, questioning eyes.

"Will?" Her voice had been too quiet.

Will Robinson passed her by, so close she could smell his cologne. She stared at him, unable to take her eyes off his form until it disappeared down the hallway.

_That went well._

She couldn't help the fact that people just didn't notice her. It was like some kind of ability that caused her to become a background face to everyone. She usually preferred this; she wasn't exactly the picture of popularity, but now of all times?

It didn't matter, Will was already gone, and a new flock of children was entering the cafeteria. She still had half a day left to get through. She just had to push by and try hard not to think about the subject that captured all of her attention.

Samantha saw Will once more that day, and still, she kept her mouth shut. She could do this on her own, learn on her own. She did not need anyone's help. As soon as school was over, Samantha took off at a brisk walk back to her home because finally, she'd be able to settle her curiosity. When she was out of eyeshot of other students, she began to run. What would usually be a twenty-minute walk ended up only being nine.

* * *

Samantha didnt bother to walk into her home; she skipped it entirely and went straight to the shed's door.

Then she stood there, staring at the handle with a placid face and brows slightly bent. The door she had left open was now closed. She took a shallow inhale and pushed at it.

The entrance opened only a few inches, but the loud scraping of metal caused her to pull back in surprise, peeking through the crack; her eyes widened at what she saw.

The place was a _fucking_ mess.

Which was impressive due to the small amount of furniture within, to begin with.

The metal wrack that was once against the wall now laid in shredded pieces barricading the door. The only desk made of imported wood was nothing but freckles of sawdust speckled throughout the ground. Both empty bookcases were toppled over one another, holes and scratches littering their surface.

The cart she'd brought in hadn't been moved much, but all the scrap she had on it were in various places as if a blind man had thrown them in a frenzy of unhinged rage.

The tiny slit of a window was broken, and somehow there was glass. _Everywhere._

The only thing left untouched was her first aid kit and the wilder, which sat in the room's corner in the only spot that didn't have rubble all over it.

She managed to push the ruined metal pile aside just far enough to squeeze herself into the room. At first glance, she didnt see Scarecrow. No glint of coppery metal, no soft churrs of his mechanical insides. Her heart sank at the implications.

He'd thrown a fit then left.

_That sounds about right._

_Now I have to clean it up._

Heaving a sigh, the disheartened girl closed the door then began stepping over glass and rubble to pull away the ruined rack barricading the door; she dragged it to the middle of the room and once more stopped to get a good look at the trouble she was undoubtedly in.

Her mother never went in here, but if she left it like this, and Molly decided to check it out...

She had to do something about it.

Then, the bookcases moved. It barely made a sound and rose only an inch, but it was profound enough in the silence to catch her attention. Eerily, Samantha stepped over a pile of glass and made her way towards the sound.

"Crow?" She murdered. The bookcases weren't just toppled; there seemed to be a method to their positions. Something was keeping them at an angle.

Upon getting no answer, the girl advanced until she reached out and got ahold of the furniture. With a grunt, she lifted the bookcase up as much as her small arms would allow.

And there he was. The robot she thought had left.

Laying there flat on his front, his screen smushed against the floor—the picture of someone who had just given up and now laid, waiting to rot.

"The hell happened?" Samantha demanded, unable to stop the worry causing her voice to tremble. He could have been attacked; was he hurt?

Scarecrow lifted his helm up slowly, and she prepared herself to see a shattered screen, flickering with hardly any life left. Instead, the same old face stared back at her, the red glow bright and ...

She had a brief flashback to a time on earth when her old friend's dog had used the bathroom on the kitchen floor. There was something about the way the retriever's tail had tucked in and how his honey brown eyes looked so... Droopy, so _Sorry._

Scarecrow was the spitting image of that dog right now; she could _feel_ his guilt.

She blinked not once but twice; her concerned features slid gracefully into the mother of all deadpans.

"Really." It was no question, and she expected no answer

All he did was stare.

With a sigh, Samantha fixed her position to brace the tilted bookcase against her shoulder. Damn, that thing was light. She was surprised she could hold it up at all.

"Are you hiding?" She asked. She wondered why the bookcase felt so weightless against her shoulder. 

"No." There was absolutely no emotion in his voice, yet Sam could already tell it was a lie. Why would he be hiding? From what? Nothing on this planet other than perhaps the humans could take him down. What was there to be afraid of?

She took in her surroundings and gestured with a hand. "So what's this then? We're you attacked? Did someone find you?" She shifted again to better support her shoulder. Seriously, though, why was this thing so light? It had to be at least forty pounds.

Scarecrow moved to sit up. The action giving Sam the ability to see most of him, he pulled his legs from beneath what used to be the top of the desk, and that's when she noticed one of his arms had been holding up the bookcase.

_That would be why._

"No."

Samantha pursed her lips.

"Did you throw a tantrum, Scarecrow?"

His nebula spread quickly; then, he tilted his head, as if he hadn't understood.

"A fit. Did you throw a fit?"

Farther apart, the stars grew. Samantha sighed heavily and began gesturing with her free hand.

"A breakdown, an outburst, did you go into a frenzy, run mad?" The more she spoke, the wider those stars became until they were no longer visible on his face, and the nebula was almost completely gone.

"We need to teach you phrases." She muttered to herself. "Point is, did _you_ do _this?_ "

... "Yes." Wow, this is the most he's ever spoken. Samantha nodded to his word and decided that holding this bookcase up was just a waste of her energy. She was still tired. She moved out from under it, forcing Scarecrow to take all of its weight or be crushed beneath it. The alien took the first option, using a single arm to hold it steady.

And even though Scarecrow was right in front of her, still here. Samantha continued to feel disheartened.

"Why?"

He never answered her. As the silence grew more awkward, all the girl could do was stand there and wait for something she knew wouldn't come. No one moved, Scarecrow sat perfectly still. 

His stars slowly returned to his face. Samantha breathed again. she wondered if this how it felt to take care of a problem child. 

Perhaps it was a pity, or maybe it was just the desire to no longer stand in silence. Whatever it was, Samantha took a step away and finally spoke.

"I'm sorry." She shuffled on her feet. In an attempt to calm her nerves, she bent down and began to organize this mess. She tossed the small metals into the growing pile and continued. "I didn't mean to get so mad. You just scared me, is all." She exhaled loudly. 

"Im glad you stayed." Samantha finished, not bothering to look back at the alien whom she could hear was moving. She had the feeling he understood her words but then again, he probably hadn't gotten enough apologies in his life to know what the word _sorry_ truly meant. With that thought, a muse began to hammer at her skull. Could she teach him things? Like how to read and write? 

Why was she pondering this now?

Something shuffled beside her, officially throwing her from her train of thought. A quick glance in that direction showed Scarecrow was back up on his feet, silently pushing one of the bookcases back into its position against the wall. She smiled at his effort. 

"You're hurt. Sit down. I can do this," Samantha told him; coming to his side, she helped him right the cabinet. He was nearly the size of two of her and had four arms. She doubted he needed the assistance. She wanted to anyway.

"You're hurt." Scarecrow copied, shifting to look down at her. Samantha only then realized how close she was to him. If she leaned a little to the right, she would be touching him. Her mind told her to move away, give him space, but her heart noticed how he did not wince or shift from her presence. 

So she stayed. Frozen still, lost looking in his nebula. 

"Sit down. I can do this." Scarecrow copied again.

Well. He did make the mess. It was only common sense for him to pick it up himself.

But still...

She scrunched up her expression into mock attitude and made a silly face at the alien. "Dont tell me what to do. Bronzeboy. Im a strong girl."

He seemed to be considering it if his stars were anything to go by. He moved his lower arms, and instinctively Samantha flinched when they shot towards her. 

Expecting some kind of hit for her playfulness, Imagine the girl's surprise when those two arms gently set under her armpits.

The next thing she knew, she was being lifted up off the ground. Still confused, Samantha protested by wagging her arms and kicking her legs weakly. "Hey! put me down!"

He ignored her; stepping effortlessly over the rubble, he approached the corner with her first aid kit. He held her out like she was an infant with a horrible smelling diaper, and only when he reached said corner did he lower her enough for her feet to touch the floorboards. 

"Stay." With that, Scarecrow made his way back over to the bookcases; he grabbed one and dragged it over to the girl, and then put it down long ways, officially trapping her in the corner.

She could easily climb over it, the bookcase on its side was only a few feet tall, but something about the idea of what Scarecrow had done stopped her. 

It was _cute_. She smiled.

"Sit down," Scarecrow demanded; Samantha didnt know why she sat down so quickly at his command, maybe she was still in shock from him touching her, or perhaps she just wanted to be lazy. Either way, the girl slid to the floor and quietly watched through her cage as the alien began about the room, assessing the damage with his robot brains.

Well, She couldn't exactly do anything now, so instead of watching him work, the girl slipped her backpack from her shoulder and opened it. 

She might as well get some homework done.

* * *

Naturally, Samantha couldn't focus on her Centari wildlife worksheet. It wasn't because of a lack of sleep or interest, as usual. The girl found it hard to concentrate this time because of the big lumbering oaf stomping his way about the room.

Scarecrow had no idea what to do with the broken mess of furniture he created, She observed. He didn't know how to fix it, so instead, it seemed he decided to just... Organize the destruction into piles of 'What it used to be.'

Every time she answered a question, she found herself peeking up at him between her bangs, just to watch him confusedly look around while trying to remember what broken piece went into which spot.

In the end, he went with merging all the piles of rubbish into one giant pile of chaos and opted to shove it all into the furthest corner. There were still shards of glass and wood chips all over the floor. Samantha made a mental note to come in here with a broom later. The last thing she wanted was for a chunk of glass to go up her shoe and cause issues.

Samantha hurried through the last few problems and shut her textbook with a thump. Scarecrow turned to her at the noise but made no other movements. She half expected him to come at her when the girl began to climb over the bookcase, but he stayed standing in his spot, just watching.

"I guess it's better than before." Samantha judged, scanning the bare room once more with thorough eyes. "Good job."

She wasn't sure why exactly she decided to praise the alien for cleaning up his own mess when it still wasn't clear why he'd done it in the first place. No blood meant no humans had come in here; she was sure if anyone else happened upon Scarecrows nest, they would not have gotten away with it unscarred.

Hesitantly, the girl spoke again. "Do you want to try again?"

Scarecrow stared and stared and stared, to the point where the girl didn't know whether or not he was listening. She nodded her head in the direction of the welder.

"We dont have to, but I hate seeing you so...exposed." Scarecrow looked down at himself, at the wounds covering his body, he sagged in defeat.

When he sat himself down on the ground, she took that as a _fine_ and retrieved the tool from behind the bookshelf. She snagged up a piece of scrap and sat in front of him.

Flashbacks to the night before had her hesitating to hold out her hand, but it seemed the robot before her chose to show progress. He extended his arm without being asked. That jump-started the brown-haired kid into reaching out and taking a gentle hold of his metals.

"It might help if you look away." She told him, placing a scrap of alloy over one of the gashes in his arm. He did as told, turning to stare at the pile of rubble when the girl brought up the instrument.

He flinched at first, and when it happened, Sam turned off the device. She didn't let go, though.

"You good?" _Not gonna rake out my stomach?_

"Good." Answered the copper alien. Samantha turned the tool back on and slowly brought it to his arm.

She'd never done this before, but the further along she got, the easier it became. She finished one side and gleamed a smile up at Scarecrow, who still wasn't looking at her.

"You're so brave." She cooed.

He relaxed at her words, which fueled her to finish up the other side quicker than the first. When it was done, Scarecrow adorned a white pearl slab of metal where his wound used to be.

"There. Done, see?" He pulled his arm from her grip and looked over the metallic bandaid. After a precise inspection, he speedily held out his other appendage.

The wounds on the other arm were smaller. She counted two that needed attention.

"More?" She questioned. Scarecrow nodded, and with that, the girl got up and began pillaging the pile of scrap for a couple of pieces that would fit the length of the claw marks.

This time, she did not hesitate when taking ahold of his much bigger arm. She was so proud of him.

_So damn proud._

While she went to work, Samantha talked about anything that came to her mind. The silence wasn't ominous, it was comfortable, but it took the nervousness off her features when she spoke. She had a feeling it helped Scarecrow too.

She moved onto the second mark on his third arm and began patching it up without fear. With the progress they were making, Sam had no doubts this time tomorrow he'd be good enough to leave if he wanted.

"That reminds me!" The girl hummed. Of course, when talking about everything, the subject of her missing father came up. "My dad would have _loved_ You." She smiled at the rush of memories that gleefully assaulted her.

"He was a chemist, I think? But he always talked about aliens with me. Well, more like I always talked aliens with him, and instead of him just letting me ramble, he actually had stuff to say about it! I wish you could meet him. He's so nice, always so positive about everything."

Another patch was Done, she barely skipped a beat as she shifted onto the next. His fourth arm was relatively unharmed, so she ignored it for now.

"I wish he was around. I really miss him. I always wondered, how the heck can someone just go missing on a ship in space? No Jupiters were signed out. He just..." Her voice died down, and with it came the train of thought shed kept at bay for so long.

"Vanished." She finished, a frown tugging at her lips, her movements slowed, and for a split second, she could feel a knot in her throat. She hadn't cried over it, not yet at least, because there was nothing to cry over. He was missing, not dead.

He could still be out there.

So there was no reason to cry.

Scarecrow shifting got her attention; she pulled back just in time to narrowly miss using the torch against a spot he didn't need it.

"Oh! Sorry." She bit out, switching the tool off; she looked over the work they'd done, then checked the time on her wristwatch. Somehow time had gotten away from her. It was almost nine at night now; she could feel exhaustion tugging her down.

"How about we stop for the night? We've done a lot." She set the welder down and then counted the white metal patches on his armor with a pointer finger.

"Six, look at that, we got six done today, that's awesome!" Scarecrow once again looked himself over, gently using a claw to trace the weld marks holding the scrap in place.

"Does that help?" Samantha asked him while she began picking up the leftovers to throw back into the chaos pile.

"Hurts... Less." He supplied, screen locked on the first white patch on his arm, his claws hovered over it, like if he dared touch it, the metal would rust away.

"Good."

She didnt know if aliens could get lost in thought, but he seemed to be. With a hum, the girl stood.

"Im gonna go get some blankets. Have you ever watched a movie?" At her words, the alien robot snapped his gaze up at her, shaking his head, an action he no doubt learned from his time among humans.

"Your gonna learn today, Bronzeboy."

Fifteen minutes later, Samantha kicked in the shed door, arms full of blankets with a laptop perched on top. She sat everything on the floor while she cleared the spot. Within moments there was a cozy nest in the middle of the room, she made sure to grab the king-sized blankets, and once everything was set up, she pointed to the comfy nest.

"Go ahead. Sit." Scarecrow ineptly scooted himself across the floor to where the blankets were placed. He lifted the edge with a claw and studied it, his stars shifting and moving curiously.

"It's soft. When you watch movies, you gotta be comfortable. Sit on it." This time her demand came with a much more superior tone, Samantha would never believe Scarecrow to be afraid of her. Still, the way he scrambled onto the blankets afterward made her feel like the general to a badass army.

She threw another blanket over his lower half (could robots get cold?) then seated herself next to him. A reasonable distance away as to not bother him with her presence or set him off in any way.

She tucked a smaller blanket that she slept with every night over her legs and went about tapping at the laptop. She didn't bother asking him what he'd like to watch and settled with one she hadn't seen yet.

It was a bit awkward, honestly. Sitting next to this giant machine that could easily slit her throat while she wasn't looking. 

Deep down, she knew he wouldn't do that, not after opening up to her.

So instead of making small talk, Samantha curled onto her side and hugged the blankets to her chest. The starting credits rolled on by, and she watched Crow as all his attention suddenly zeroed in on the small screen.

She tried her best to stay awake to watch some of the scenes, but her eyelids kept dragging down, and a fog overtook her mind.

Twenty minutes later, she fell asleep to the sound of music, the feeling of safety, and Scarecrows' internal mechanisms humming.

* * *

_I think we could reach heaven_   
_If we go through hell_

_If we go through hell_   
_And trust each other_

_We could ring the bells_

_I think we could reach heaven_   
_If we go through hell_

_if we go through hell_   
_And trust each other_   
_We could ring the bells._

** _Solence - Heaven_ **


	5. In My Dreams

* * *

_It's way too far to touch with your feet_  
_I wanted you to know before it got so deep_  
_But here we are in a frozen faction_  
  
_Fading completely_  
  
_It's not you, it's definitely me_  
_Your paper sailboat swallowed by the sea_  
_I'd love to play pretend to your songs but_  
_In my dreams, in my dreams, you're gone._

**_SWARM - In my dreams._**

* * *

_Droning filtered through his audios, the reverberation distorted. His ambient red light shimmered, and another jolt of pain shuddered through him. Scarecrow was trying to raise his head; everything before that moment was a blur. **H o w** did he get **here**? Footsteps beside him: his lights wavered again, filtering out through a surge of static. He could see a face frightening yet so familiar; somehow it calmed his raging circuits._

_"I'm gonna make things right by you." Scarecrow turned his helm to the side, his movements lurched. He was so **weak** , and he couldn't **f o c u s.** There was too much happening at once. An explosion detonated in the distance, and Ben's shape ran away. Errors cascaded over his view, he would be offline in mere moments, and he could do nothing to save himself._

**_Weak._ **

**_W e a k._ **

_The pain overwhelmed him, it crackled and flowed through every node of his damaged form. Every movement he made flooded his systems with more inaccuracies and critical warnings._

_"BEN! NO!" Shouting. It came from the boy,_ _**the boy**_ _. Robots_ _ **b o y**_ _. Something touched him. He couldn't move his helm. He had no energy left. Scarecrow could tell he was being dragged, thunder cracked around him, and the droning got louder… rain poured over his open wounds… he was by pillars. He would survive._

_He was being dragged…_ _ **dragged?** _ _He forced his helm up, erratic red light landing on the hunched and struggling form of Ben Adler._ _ **Saving**_ _his life. His_ _ **l i f e.** _ _The man who had tormented him from the start, who put him in this state._

_Now laid here with him, wet and covered in mud, crawling with him towards the base of his salvation. Ben Adler. Another spark of lightning blazed. His body gave out with a whine. He hit the soaked ground and fought to keep himself aware—a few more seconds._

_He was_ _ **dying**_ _. Death was in his sights, yet so was life. A few more seconds... He would survive. But this creature beside him. This human..._ _**This human** _ _..._ _**H u m a n.** _ _There was no chance._

_Ben Adler…_ _**B e n A d l e r**_ _. Will perish._

_A hand, gentle and cold, touched his arm. He peered up, his last star struggling to stay lit, focused_ _solely_ _on the man._

_"Next time we meet, how 'bout…" Ben paused, his saddened smile churning something deep inside the robot, this feeling..._ _**this feeling**_ _._

_"Let's do things differently from the start." He didn't have time. The Lightning had struck, crackling and booming closer and closer. Scarecrow struck, his claws wrapped around the strap of Ben Adler's backpack, his screen locked with the man's face, full of determination, acceptance and peace._

_This_ _**f e e l i n g.** _

_**W h a t i s-** _

_-Ben Adler would_ _**perish** _ _._

_The flash was blinding. In an instant, all his pain had disappeared, and he was overcome with strength. His grip never left the strap, even as he felt the weight around it evaporate. His frame shook, his vision blacked, he felt his limbs repair themselves, inch by inch regrowing everything he had lost._

_When he came to, his hand was still clutched around the backpack strap never wavering, his face lit with newfound life._

_He sat up while the groans and creaks hummed around him, from others created by the same light. The first thing he did was glance at the place where moments before Adler had been. There was nothing, merely charred pieces of something he could only assume to be flesh and bones._

_Ben Adler was gone._

_And here he was, **alive.**_

_**A l i v e.** _

_**Why?**_

* * *

He stared down at the strap in his hand while the laptop played in the background. The character's voices were lost to him as he zeroed in on the stitched and torn fabric dangling in his grasp, speckles of blood still stained on its surface. Stains that would always remain.

He must've stared at it for hours, and the only thing that brought him back to the present, was when the voices from the laptop stopped. Beside him, the young girl he'd come to tolerate began shifting and whimpering in her recharge cycle.

He tucked the fabric away in a nook between his chest and hip armor, making sure to press it deep inside the seam to keep it from showing, and also to keep it in place. Samantha kicked out; instinctively, Scarecrow flinched away from the appendage: had he been any slower, it would've connected with his side.

It would not have done damage.

**Frail** , **w e a k** human.

He watched her move about in her spot for a few seconds, This… Normal? Did she look… distressed? Hesitantly, he reached out with a claw. Should he… wake her?

He decided that it was better than watching her struggle with unseen forces.

* * *

Something touched her face.

It was cold at first but steadily warmed the longer it was held there: like a cat's wet nose.

Samantha mumbled, a smile molding her drowsy lips. Dashy hadn't come nosing at her face in a long, long time. He must have felt more like himself today...  
The touch came again, this time a tiny bump to her cheek.

Still, half stuck in slumber, the girl fumbled out to pet her elderly family cat. Obviously, Dashy wanted attention, and she was never one to ignore the needy elder.

That smile pulled down onto a frown when her sleep-numbed hand touched something smooth and cold. Her hand explored the item, her fingertips dipping into what seemed like a ridge of armor, the longer she kept her hand there, the warmer the item became until it was almost too hot to touch.

Then she remembered her cat had died years ago on earth.

And whatever she is caressing... is moving.

She cracked open an eye, wincing at the burn that came with waking up with only a few hours of sleep. Her blurry, watery vision met a dulled red nebula, like how she imagined the sky in Hell to look.

That was when she remembered Scarecrow.

She yanked her hand away in a split-second decision to keep her limbs intact, snapping to a sitting position so swiftly she felt dizzy.

"Ehhm? 'Row was'rung?" She slurred.

"English, Samantha." His snarky tone snapped her back to the present. Figures, the only time he used emotion in his voice was when he was giving her sas. There was barely any insolation in this shed, and the window was still broken causing the cool nights' air to caress her goosebump-covered skin. She snagged up her blanket and tucked it around her arms, desperate to stop the shivering

She stayed like that until her body heat eventually created a cacoon of warmth under the blanket. A few more blinks, and she cleared the fog from her eyes. She was finally able to look at the alien she had fallen asleep beside.

He was staring at her, she felt uncomfortable, had he done that all night? Did they need to sleep or... Recharge? He could have done anything to her while she was asleep and exposed...

But he hadn't. So Samantha relaxed and repeated her earlier words, this time, less drunkenly.

"What's wrong, Crow? Why'd ya wake me?" He pointed to the laptop, which had been moved from the nest's foot to Scarecrow's lap. The screen was black, and the humming of the machine couldn't be heard. The girl reached out and pressed some of the buttons experimentally.

"It's dead. The battery died." She concluded. Scarecrow deflated slightly, resembling a disappointed teen who was just told he _had_ to go to the family's dinner party.

Of course, Samantha hated that look, so she wasted no time groggily getting to her feet, the blanket still clinging to her. The thought of going outside while she was still chilled ate at her, but she would do it for her new robot.

"I'll go get the charger." She might as well. As she exited the shed, she checked the time, three in the morning: Samantha was surprised the laptop lasted as long as it had. Part of her expected Scarecrow to fall asleep long before it could die, but she underestimated the mech's inability to sleep. He must've been enjoying himself, though. If waking her up to fix the problem was anything to go by.

She went to her room and gathered up her charger, knowing that there had to be a plug in the shed somewhere. Her stomach grumbled, and she winced. She barely ate yesterday, so instead of rushing right back out, she stopped by the kitchen to make herself a microwave steak meal.

Her mother didn't exactly leave her with many options for food choices. Sam was sure that a few days in advance, the fridge would be stocked, it wasn't.

Three and a half minutes later, she once again left the safety of her home for the area that was quickly becoming a place of comfort. She sat down for her meal and immediately plugged the laptop in to charge.

"It'll take a bit to boot back up." She began shoving the tasteless meal down her throat like she was ten minutes late for a meeting; it took her no time at all to finish and set the plastic tray aside.

Scarecrow was still staring at her.

"What, you've never seen a human eat before?" She quipped, grinning shallowly.

He said nothing but apparently had the decency to look away and allow her the privacy of eating.

The laptop booted back on, and Samantha navigated to Netflix on the dashboard. Automatically the movie the computer had died on picked back up. The second a voice was heard, Scarecrow snapped back into his hunched over potion and diverted all his attention once more to the screen. Each one of his four arms settled at his sides.

She was expecting to see some kind of action movie playing, or maybe a nature documentary: however, what greeted her sight was that of a cartoon. No. It wasn't a _cartoon_. She noted, upon further inspection, it was an old-time _anime_.

She reached over him and tapped on the touchpad—episode twelve of Full Metal Alchemist.

She searched her brains for answers. Had it accidentally chose the show for the copper alien, or did he seek it out on his own? She had only watched a couple episodes of the anime, but twelve? In one night?

"Did you watch all this?" She questioned.

The answer came instantly. "Yes."

"Do you... like it?" She continued with a drawl.

With a shocking amount of conviction, Scarecrow made a fist and pumped it into the air. Just once, one single 'raise your fist' moment, however quick it had been, Samantha still smiled at the sight.

"I'll take that as a yes."

_He's becoming a nerd._

She sat there for a little bit, just watching the alien, and the show he seemed so interested in. She wondered, not for the first time if they were able to have their own personalities. If actions were anything to go by, Scarecrow had one.

Being constructed by another being didn't necessarily mean they couldn't be alive in there. Just because humans had yet to create a conscious AI, Did not mean that another species couldn't.

 _They had to be alive_.

_A mindless machine wouldn't watch twelve episodes of an anime without being told to._

_A mindless machine wouldn't burst into fits of anger at little things._

_A mindless machine wouldn't flinch at contact because of damages done to them in the past._

_They had to be alive_.

Samantha refused to believe otherwise.

Did Robot also like anime, or was it just a Scarecrow thing? Did Will's companion snarkily tell him to speak English when he mumbled or was Scarecrow purposely _trying_ to be a smartass?

Did all of their species only speak a few words, or were some chatterboxes and others mute?

Could she teach him to speak proper sentences?

Samantha blinked, the idea coming like a tidal wave. It appealed to her so greatly she had to fight to keep the squeal down. She decided then that tomorrow, as she worked on Scarecrow's chest wounds, she would teach him how to properly talk.

He understood her quite well and clearly knew most English words, probably from his lengthy time around humans.

Maybe he needed a little guidance. As far ad she could tell, No one had been kind enough to teach him human ways.

"Im gonna go back to sleep, Crow." Sam decided. It was still pretty late, and her meal hadn't given her much energy.

Even though her blankets, she was still cold, so hesitantly, she cleared her throat and asked.

"Is it okay if I lay down closer to you? I won't touch you or anything. It's just frigid, and humans can get sick if they're exposed to cold temperatures for too long." She closed her eyes and held her breath, ready for whatever came next. Scarecrow shifted. She could feel him looking at her.

"Yes." He answered, with only a moment of hesitation.

She let out her breath and smiled at him. She wiggled a few inches closer to his metal, and already she could feel the temperature difference. Tucking her blanket around her form. She closed her eyes, still smiling.

"Thank you."

Scarecrow didn't respond. He didn't need to. Within seconds she was asleep again.

* * *

This time, she woke up on her own terms. Samantha yawned and wiggled in her spot, one long stretch wracked her body, and she could not hold back the noises of satisfaction that escaped from her throat. The static she had come to familiarize as Scarecrow's body comforted her while she slowly brought herself to awareness.

She cracked open her eyes and saw a ray of Proxima Centauri daylight peeking through the tiny open window in the back of the shelter. She rolled onto her stomach, buried her head into the makeshift pillow and nuzzled it sleepily. Her body curled around her primary source of warmth that clung close to her. Deep in the back of her mind, she knew that it was Scarecrow she was wrapping around, right now, she couldn't find it in herself to care. He was not prying her off, nor was he commenting on it.

Knowing he was allowing it caused her to relax and crack a smile: before she knew it, she had drifted back into a very shallow sleep.

It only had to have been fifteen minutes later when she woke up again, no longer able to sleep. It was marvelous when she could actually rest for a full night, instead of being woken by nightmares or falling off her bed from struggling. Scarecrow was expectedly still in his spot from last night. The blanket was always tossed over his bottom half, and he was still watching Fullmetal Alchemist.

"G'mornin'." The girl hummed, finally sitting up. Scarecrow looked better. His face was much brighter as it glanced at her; he said nothing. Samantha decided that since today, she had sporadically agreed that she would teach him proper English, that she would not allow him to get off with being so silent.

"You're supposed to say good morning back to someone who says it to you, Crow." Scarecrow's helm tilted, and he regarded her mutely again. Samantha narrowed her eyes at the mech and pointedly stared at him, as if communicating to his thoughts.

"So when I say good morning... you say..."

Again, she was met with quietness. Samantha sighed heavily, thoroughly displaying her irritation at his behavior. "If you want to be like Robot and fit in with the humans, you have to at least try to talk like them." _If_ _that's_ _even what you want to do._ Samantha began, pulling the blanket up further over her legs; why was she always so cold?

_Probably because_ _you've_ _been living in a shed since your mother left._

"Come on, it's not that hard; let's try it again." She coaxed.

Sam laid back down. She threw the blanket over her face and stilled. Then, she deliberately rose and give a fake stretch along with a cat-like noise.

"Good morning, Scarecrow." She was afraid that he would never answer her, but it seemed like he was just pondering. Because after a second of thought, she could hear the little growl in his throat that he sometimes made before he spoke.

"Good morning, Samantha," it sounded hesitant but curious.

Samantha gave a whoop of delight. "Yes! Good job." Then she stretched and patted his helm like a dog. He did not veer away or make any display of discomfort at the gesture. She grinned at his effort.

"Okay, so let's practice." She continued. "Good morning!"

"Good morning, Samantha," Scarecrow replied with no hesitation, if she didnt know any better she would assume him _eager._

"How are you today?" it looked as if he didn't know what to say to the sentence. However, Samantha's courage seemed to turn to something in him, and he studied her comprehensively, giving her all his attention.

"Fine." He stated.

"You are fine?" Samantha pressed.

"Yes." The answer came directly, Sam felt as if she were talking to a human. He caught on so hastily... However...

"When you referring to yourself, you say _I am_ , So let's try that again." She cleared her throat, straightening her shoulders to loom more professional. "How are you today?"

"I am fine." Sam chuckled outright; proudly, Scarecrow sat up straighter, she crossed her legs and swayed. It was so unusual to hear a full sentence from him!

"Good! Good! _so_ good!" She gave his helm another pet, and in all honesty, she had no clue whether or not the action was reassuring him or if he noticed it at all.

"Now, ask me how I am." She prodded.

...

...

"How I am, Samantha?" Sam laughed at the absurdity of it; she pursed her lips.

"No, it's how are _you!_ " she managed between breaths. Scarecrow stirred, and with it, he pitched foreword just a hair towards her.

"How are _you_ , Samantha?" He corrected.

"I'm good, thank you!" Before she knew what she was doing, the young girl had rocketed forward and wrapped her arms around the cold metal of his waist. Just as quickly as she did this, she tore away. Knowing full well that if she lingered, he might get upset.

"We'll work on that more when I fix up your chest. But good, super good!" She couldn't help but think that this would be easy. He was a quick learner... Maybe getting him into society go much smoother than she first envisioned.

The excitement wore down, and Samantha looked herself over. The slight sting of her wounds was still there- She hadn't actually looked at it since it had happened. Quietly, the girl unwrapped the dirty bandage concealing the claw mark. It had been profound- the edges round the gash were turning purple, and as she pulled off the bandage spots in the middle, the deepest part of the wound began to bleed.

It would require stitches to heal correctly, most likely more than four, giving the cut ran almost the length of her forearm. If any doctor saw this injury in its state, they would throw a fit and give her one hardcore lesson about taking care of herself before dragging her into an emergency room and stitching it up.

She couldn't go to anyone about it, though. Not without risking Scarecrows' safety. However, that meant taking care of it to a tedious extent to stop any chance of infection, because well, if it got infected, she would have to go to someone then. 

"Hurt?" A sound akin to a yelp pierced Samanthas lips. She was not expecting Scarecrow to say anything, let alone prompt her with a question. It wasn't just the word that surprised her. It was the amount of worry she could feel in its tone. Not once had he conversed with any real passion behind it; it sounded so different. Perhaps her short-lived teaching session had brought out Scarecrows' need to socialize?

She hoped so. She liked it when Scarecrow talked. His voice was crackly like a calm fire and deep enough to squeeze her heart. 

"Yeah, it hurts," Samantha admitted. She felt her face heat up at his worry and went about quickly rewrapping the wound in its used bandage. She needed to replace the cloth. 

"It's okay, though." She gave him a warped smile that any human could tell was forced. It's good her company was robotic. "I know you didn't mean it, and you're better now! So it's okay." She found herself glancing down at her watch, brows creasing. It was one-thirty in the afternoon. She had slept so long... "It's been, like, two days, and you've made so much progress, plus!" Samantha thrust out her wounded arm, her smile tilting into a convincing one.

"Once it's all healed, it'll scar. Then ill always have something to remember you by!" Scarecrow stilled at her words, his dark red nebula twisted in tune with his thoughts. She felt sad- for such a brief moment, she wondered where the emotion had come from. It didnt come from her; it felt like an outside force, like a gentle gust of wind on bare arms...

Scarecrow remained silent, then he pulled his gaze away, back to the laptop screen. Samantha didn't know how to take that, so she averted her eyes to her lap and fumbled with the blanket nervously. 

She pushed herself up off the ground when the silence became too much. "Im going to eat and do some general self-maintenance. When I come back, we'll work on your chest, okay?" 

Returning to his quiet self, Scarecrow made no movement to show he had heard her. He was simply still: locked on the show playing, seemingly determined to ignore the world around him. Samantha took a long breath and decided to let it go. He was a robot. After all, she couldn't expect him to continually exceed her expectations. 

She left without another word, off to clean herself and ponder what she'd teach him today.

* * *

Shed spent a few hours taking care of herself and thinking over everything in her mind. She marched straight into the shed after getting dressed in warmer clothing and snagged up the all but abandoned tool. 

She flicked the tool on and off a few times, making sure to alert the alien to her possession of it. Scarecrows screen wondered to her hands, then back to the computer. She was clean, watered, and ready to spend the weekend with her new favorite obsession. Robot was last year, _S_ _carecrow was the latest trend._

"So we only got that one spot left." She began; with easy movements, the girl stepped over Scarecrow's legs and slapped the laptop shut. Scarecrow flinched, top arms rearing back as if to strike out, his screen flashed a bright red in surprise. "No more Netflix. It's repair time."

Scarecrow regarded her slowly, standing there overtop him with her hair wet and her body bundled in a thick jacket, face taught and stern like a strict Queen. He once more peered at the tool locked in her digits, then reached out and used a claw to reopen the laptop.

"More Netflix." He decided, tapping the space button as carefully as he could to resume the show. Sam rolled her eyes and used her foot this time to close it.

It snapped shut, narrowly missing his extended claw.

"Nope, you've been watching it for hours. It's time for class." Scarecrow growled, low and possessive. He once again attempted to open the device, only for Samantha's foot to remain dominant atop it. She felt a flash of anger from him, which she got a little excited over, but decided to stand her ground.

"Time for Netflix." He pressed; when he moved for her foot, Samantha almost flinched away: almost. Instead of slashing it off, he poked it, much like he had the space button.

"Question? Samantha value appendage?" Sam narrowed her eyes at the alien, who tilted his head the way he did every time he asked a question.

"It would be. 'I have a question. Do _you_ value this appendage? And _yes_. I _do_ , I value it very much, and I need it to walk." Samantha affirmed. At her words, Scarecrow seemed to level with interest, and the girl noted that thoroughly. He _enjoyed_ receiving new words. His top arms steadied behind his back like a pair of metallic wings.

"Appendage stay, risk removal." He threatened. Sam didn't know whether or not she could trust her budding connection with the alien enough to assume that he was joking.

"I'll teach you a bunch of new words if you let me fix your chest." She bartered, Scarecrow stilled, quietly contemplating, then, without a word, he shoved the laptop away from him and scooted from the nest to give her space.

"Accepted." Sam smiled, long and proudly. Now she had an incentive.

"Awesome. You like learning human language?"

"Better," Scarecrow replied. She wished he could elaborate on it but knew it would most likely come out a jumbled mess.

She thought of Scarecrow, years in the future... arriving at her house for a visit.

_He would knock, and she would answer the door. "Good morning Samantha, are you doing alright?" He'd say, in his same old deep voice, yet with a twinge of sophistication, he also had half a British accent because her mind decided to add that in, dont ask her why, she really didn't know._

_"I'm fantastic. Do you wanna come in?" She would open the door wider, inviting him inisde._

_"I would love to, but I have a meeting with the mayor about my application to college~."_

That would be _awesome._ If he eventually learned to talk like that.

It would also be strange, so very _very_ strange.

_Anyway..._

Sam fired up the tool before her imagination could take that scene any further, she picked through the pile of destruction Scarecrow had left in the corner until she came out with a mostly circular piece of metal; she placed it over the wound and adjusted it to fit better. The selection of metal just so happened to have the number 17 directly centered. It must have been from that Jupiter.

The white metal looked so clean aginst his dirtied and dented armor: He could do with a wash. 

They had come a long way in a few days How long had it been already? three days? two? He was talking. _So much._ He hadn't hurt her...well, since yesterday. He was letting her touch him, and certainly, he was becoming comfortable. Shed felt sensations from him twice in this day alone and could only hope that it was a connection like Wills forming. She'd been so fascinated by Robot since she had met the alien, now she couldn't help but marvel at the fact that she had her own robot to satisfy her curiosity with.

She bent forward without feat and began melting the elements together, with a steady hand wanting the weld to look as smooth as possible. As the light blue flames danced before her, she couldn't help but wonder...

Would he leave once he was fixed? And where would he go? Her heart weakened; she'd gotten so attached already. Was she tough enough to watch him walk away, knowing they might never see each other again?

What was he planning to do?

She resolved to stow away those thoughts for a later date when she wasn't occupied by an eager alien thrice the size of her.

"Now when you meet somebody or see somebody that you know, The first thing you say to them is hello." Sam began, giving the copper mech his promise of a lesson. 

"~and then you ask how they are doing. It's a greeting that we humans do. You could probably just wave and get the job done that way if you're in a hurry, but it's always nicer to say hello and ask them how they are. It makes you seem more friendly. Most of the time, if you're just seeing somebody in passing, that is all you need. So let's do this, okay?"

Samantha set up and walk to the other side of the shed, the wielding tool in her hand. The white sheet metal was half hanging off Scarecrow's body, too much moving would probably dislodge it.

She began towards him with purpose, and then her face changed. With a look of recognition and a smile, she lifted up a hand and waved.

"Hello, Scarecrow!"

"Hello," Scarecrow replied. He lifted his hand in a simple wave.

"How are you doing today? Good, I hope?" Samantha continued, stopping just before him.

"I am good; how are you?"

"Thank you for asking. I'm doing very well. You up to anything new?"

Scarecrow paused, as if thinking through what he was going to say. And then he answered with a gentle, higher voice, showing some kind of emotion that the girl could not decipher.

"I am wearing new armor that you have put on I," He replied tentatively.

"It's me, there at the end, instead of I." Samantha corrected. She did so as nicely as she possibly could.

Scarecrow's hands twitched to her words.

"I am wearing new armor that you have put on me." He finished, nebula swirling with tangible pride.

Samantha sat back down in front of the robot, giggling at how overjoyed she was. She twirled the instrument in her hand and made sure to send him her brightest smile yet.

"Very good! You're so smart." She pitched foreword and silently began finishing the rest of his chest patch. Once it was done, she leaned away and flicked off the tool.

"You look really good in white." Scarecrow looked down at himself, studying the pearl white armor extension.

"You're supposed to thank someone who compliments you," Samantha added.

"Thank." Scarecrow mirrored, still staring at his chest.

"Thank _you_." Sam corrected with a smirk.

"Thank you, _Samantha_." he began, it seemed he wanted to continue the conversation. It inwardly thrilled the girl when he asked- "Look good in white?" Samantha nodded sincerely, patting the newly adorned metal sheet.

"Handsome. That's the word you're looking for."

"Han~" a burst of static cut him off, static that came from his own body. He stiffened; whatever attention he had given her went straight through the tiny, still broken window. His helm tipped to the side, and gradually he rose to a hunched height.

"Scarecrow?" Samantha pressed, her heart rate skyrocketed, and the color drained from her face. He was alert, and the way every mechanism in his body stopped making noise froze her in place. His gaze was fixed intently on the door.

"Is someone coming?" She quipped nervously; His quietness spoke volumes, louder than any word could.

And in that silence, she could hear heavy footsteps... approaching.

Someone was out there, and they were heading straight for their safe haven.

* * *

_This is the product of a different breed_  
_I hopе you never know the depth of breath we breathe_  
_All in all just a frozen faction_  
_Fading completely_  
  
_It's not you, it's definitely me_  
_Your paper sailboat swallowed by the sea_  
_I'd love to play pretend to your songs, but_  
_In my dreams_  
_In my dreams, you are gone_  
_It's not you, it's definitely me_  
_Your paper sailboat swallowed by the sea_  
_I'd love to play pretend to your songs, but_  
_In my dreams_  
_In my dreams, you are gone_

**_SWARM - In my dreams._ **

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not have been possible without the encouragement and help from Its_In_The_Water. Please check out their stories!  
> Thank you for checking this fic out, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed coming up with it!
> 
> Until next time~~  
> -ThemSoundWaves.


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